


8-Bit Solutions

by coyotes



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: AI Jack, Choking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotes/pseuds/coyotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can make you feel stuff, kiddo. Ain’t that a killer?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	8-Bit Solutions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sandpapersnowman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/gifts).



> okay so i started this and had most of it done before episode 2 came out and i can't believe how much actually came true from what i thought would happen, so enjoy it as much as i enjoy predicting stuff.

“Let’s try this again, huh, pumpkin?” The voice echoed in his head, _in_ his head, and Rhys shook his head hard enough to give himself whiplash.

"No," Rhys whined, a scratchy, long note of ‘o’s, but his arm was already kicking back into life at his side. Rhys grabbed at the shoulder of his robotic arm and grit his teeth, turning over to his side on the floor and pinning his metal arm below him.

"No?" The crackling voice purred between his ears, winding around his brain and forcing itself at the forefront of his focus. "Well, kiddo, that changes everything. Sit up, up up up up _up_." His arm moved on its own, the metal one, fingers of it twisting around like it was getting a feel for the movement before placing itself palm-flat on the floor and hauling him up. Rhys grabbed the arm by the wrist once he was vertical.

"Come _on_ , we both know you’re only stalling the inevitable, buttercup, it’s only gonna hurt if you do it to yourself. Or, I mean, _technically_ it’ll be me, but it’s really you. That’s why this relationship isn’t working," the voice said in a falsely wistful voice, a sigh filling his head, "it’s not me, it’s you. Now let’s kiss and make up, huh?"

“No.” But it sounds confused.

"You sure do have _some_ vocabulary range when I’m scrambling up your salad bowl of a head, don’t’cha? Lots of things in here but you just _can’t_ tap into that part of your brain that makes those big _words_. Why’s that?"

As soon as that voice broke off Rhys became aware of a phantom itch at the back of his head, and he knew it wasn’t real, there was nothing there, but he relaxed his hold on his other wrist while he thought about scratching it just enough for it to slide out of his grasp.

"Oh. Yeah. That’s because I’m blocking it off. Huh. I started doing that on accident, but I guess this whole ride’s got so many perks I’m just stumbling on ‘em as I go. Ooh, what’s this one do?"

The hand he couldn’t control balled up into a fist full of metal.

And clocked him in the jaw.

Rhys wheeled to the side, sputtering up drops of blood onto the ground. “I vit ny tongue, you — you made me bite my _tongue_ ,” he whined, almost inaudibly, as he covered his mouth, smearing his blood-coated drool all over the back of his hand. He pulled it away to say something because now he felt like he could actually breathe and _speak_ , but the voice in his head cut him off.

"Yowch. What about this?"

The second punch nailed him just below the eye that time; the brown one. That time Rhys’ head reeled backwards and the back of his skull hit the wall with a dull thunk. Whatever they said about seeing stars when your own robotic arm punched you in the face a couple of times while the coding ghost of the former king of Hyperion yelled at you, they were right. All he could see were little bright spots.

"Oh, wait. That was the same one, whoopsie. Let’s… try… _this_!"

The third one went to his nose. Or, at least, he thought it did. He couldn’t tell because he fell over and he… sort of blacked out, but he blinked back into consciousness just as the hologram started up again.

"Why are you hitting yourself? Haha, oh, wait, that’s me. I’m hitting you with your own freakin’ hand, how awesome is that?"

"Not awesome, stop!"

"Hmm, gonna have to pass, kiddo."

Rhys shut his eyes in exasperation, focusing on the pulse of his heartbeat as blood rushed to the cut on his tongue, but that didn’t help his cause at all — before he knew what was happening his robotic arm was resting at his forehead, sliding back to card through his hair, and Rhys sighed in a way that he couldn’t tell whether he liked it or hated it. He hated that there was a chance he might have liked it, so there was that, too.

“Something you wanna tell me?” That voice asked, way too pleasant, and Rhys knew he was just fucking with him, he — “no, really, I’m curious as hell. I mean, buddy, you’re breathing like you just outran a Skag that’s been chasing you for twenty freakin’ miles.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, pain blooming just below his non-robotic eye at the motion, tilting his head back against the wall. He closed his mouth for a second, breathed through his nose instead, and tried to sigh it off, but he couldn’t keep his breaths quiet or even. If anything they sped up, heart pounding in his ears — or maybe that was just Jack, if Jack had found a hammer somewhere in his brain and decided to slam it on everything he found there. Didn’t seem too out of the question.

"I don’t even have to punch you in the face."

"Well, glad you figured that out before taking a swing at some of my teeth, I can’t live without those," Rhys muttered, raising his hand to his jaw and rubbing the side his other arm had hit, as if that’d protect him if Jack got any ideas.

"Shhhh! I can make you feel stuff, kiddo. Ain’t that a killer?" 

Rhys winced at the gnawing ache that rose at the back of his head, not an itch but a real, uncomfortable pressure, a warning, screaming **pay attention** in a flurry of white noise and pain —

"— Like that _rush_ I get when I shoot people in the freakin’ skull."

Rhys fidgeted on the floor as warmth spread down to the base of his spine and his whole body shivered, opening his mouth in a squeaky moan he couldn’t hold back but he’d regret later anyway. His hips arched the slightest bit off the ground and Jack made a soft hum of agreement at the right side of his head, like he was speaking in his ear, and Rhys sucked in a breath to keep himself from moaning again, only releasing it in a stuttery sigh once the feeling passed.

"Yeah-eah. That one. Except, you know, minus that noise."

Rhys glared ahead of him, felt heat rising at his neck and cheeks and that time it wasn’t Jack, that was him, he was embarrassed because of a _hologram_.  
"How about the time you almost peed yourself when I popped up that first time? I’ll never forget that damn stupid _face_ you made, ‘aah!’"

Rhys grinned in spite of himself, laughter bubbling up in his throat and coming out nervously at first, a small giggle that turned into cackling way too close to the laugh of the man currently occupying his head, he’d heard it before; he laughed so hard it _hurt_ , doubling over and grabbing at his stomach as he tensed up.

All of a sudden the urge to laugh disappeared and he sat there half-laughing and half-sighing, entirely confused, content to sit there and process what just happened, but that wasn’t an option.

"Or when _you_ let me in."

The satisfaction that flooded him was the best thing to come out of this experience, his shoulders slumped and he felt like he could take on the world just then, righteous and cocky and twenty different kinds of _good_ , and when that feeling cut off, Rhys made a soft noise of protest.

"You’re nothing but a toy box for me, kiddo. Gotta say, though, landing in the body of some fanboy of mine really is an eye-opener. You’ve been hiding it pretty well, I’ll give you that, but you can’t hide anything from me, pumpkin."

Rhys let out a nervous giggle, still riding the high he thought he’d experienced, the feeling was gone but he wanted it so _bad_. He didn’t even bother talking, Jack would just find a way to embarrass him further, he just…

The sound of someone snapping their fingers echoed loudly in his head and Rhys yelped, covering one ear with the hand he could control, but that did nothing for the noise. His attention focused solely on the noise, and Jack snorted.

His eye lit up, focusing on the space in front of him and he wasn’t controlling that either; the color in that eye broke up for a moment, an internal glitch breaking up the screen in a way that severed his vision. Then it shut off completely. His robotic arm went dead at his side.

"… Jack?" He said quietly, waiting a moment with nothing but silence as a response, and then he started to panic, and he thought of calling for Vaughn while he could — Jack had forced him into wandering off from his group but if he screamed loud enough he’d hear, and Rhys stood shakily to his feet. His arm was so much heavier when he couldn’t control it. "Vaughn," he tried, weak and tired, holding onto his arm to keep him upright, he couldn’t find it in him to run or yell or do just about anything but he repeated Vaughn’s name a few times under his breath, borderline-crying by the time he had no breath left, or felt like he didn’t. He felt sapped, and standing wasn’t making it easier but he had to if he had any hope of getting anywhere.

His arm suddenly sparked and Rhys took his hand away from it with a hiss, his eye coming back to life with the same pain that reached all the way back into his skull and the light it gave off was way too bright, it felt like it was burning in his damn eye socket.

Rhys turned his head and Jack was there, too close, way too close, his jumble of pixels and coding was too much for his robotic eye to look at and that time he _screamed_ , tripping over his feet and landing on his back with a loud ‘oof’.

"Gotcha! Did you really think you’d shorted out? Give me a break," the Jack in front of him made some sort of eye-rolly motion and hand gesture and Rhys covered his robotic eye with one hand.

He couldn’t see Jack anymore, but he was definitely there. “Go away, I’m not in the mood for this anymore and I’m pretty sure you made me break my back, what the _hell_ ,” Rhys groaned.

"You think you can just click your ruby red Skag slippers three times and get away from me, huh? Don’t think so. We’re both in this boat together, might as well have some fun with it."

Rhys opened his eyes and pouted, pulling his hand from where it covered his left one. Jack was… Jack was sitting on him, knees on either side of his waist but hovering, just a little, so that they weren’t in contact. Rhys clenched his fingers at his side.

"There’s a good boy,"Jack growled, and Rhys squirmed, wishing he could find the courage to break the eye contact but instead he just shifted as much as he could without finding bodily contact with the hologram, trying his best to sink into the fucking ground.

"Jesus, it’s like watching a rock try to swim," every word was mocking him and Rhys’ cheeks were so hot he thought he might explode, but then Jack was reaching forward and over him and Rhys shrunk away from his pixelated arm even as it closed around the wrist of his robotic arm, coding melting into the metal and eventually his entire hand disappeared into Rhys’ own, and Jack sighed.

"Kinky," Rhys said as he scooted a centimeter or so backwards to avoid his touch but it made no difference, his own hand coming up to rest on his collarbone without his control. Jack sneered down at him like he hadn’t heard that. His fingers closed around his neck and tightened there and at first, it was tolerable, but then they clenched harder and Rhys couldn’t breathe — at all — he wheezed, taking his free hand and grabbing at his robotic arm to try and pull it away, but it refused to budge.

"Too bad I can’t kill you, think you’d like that, though, wouldn’t you? Anything if it got you Handsome Jack’s attention, huh, pumpkin?"

Rhys gasped for air, digging his heels into the ground and grabbing at his robotic hand with the other in an attempt to clear his airway, but none of it fazed Jack in the slightest.

"Always wanted to be just like me. There’s a reason you’re not the big bad ruler of Hyperion, kiddo. You thought you could fit in my shoes, but what are you? A robot that bleeds if you poke at it? A brave little rebel with Hyperion tech built into his skull, yeah, hotshot?"

Rhys stopped kicking, bucking his hips once into the air instead. Jack eased up.

"Sweet Jesus," Rhys wheezed off to the side, coughing his lungs out from inhaling too fast once he was able to breathe.

"What was _that_?" Jack said, excited-mocking-surprised all at once, and Rhys groaned.

"Nothing," he managed to get out with his neck and head still hurting from the lack of blood pumping through it and the points where Jack had put the most pressure on still throbbing, organic hand moving to lay limply at his side.

"A-huh." Jack said, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth before clenching his robotic hand against his throat again before Rhys had a chance to negotiate or - or something - he wouldn’t kill him, Rhys knew that, but that thought didn’t help when he couldn’t think.

Jack kept on blocking his airway even after Rhys no longer had the energy to keep kicking his legs or try and pull his hand away from his neck, and he only relaxed his grip again when the corners of his vision were going black and Jack’s own form began to glitch in and out the same way Rhys went in and out of consciousness.

Rhys’ chest heaved, in and out, deep and long and just plain _nice_ , and when he finally took the time to look at Jack, Jack wasn’t doing the same.

He was looking at his crotch.

"When did that get there, kiddo?"

"What?" Is all Rhys can really say on the subject, looking down to where Jack has his eyes set on, just as surprised to see the bulge in his pants as Jack is.  
"This is unbelievable," Jack laughs, "thought of this before, huh? That it? You’re a freakin’ nutball, kid. Too bad we never had a chat when I could choke you with both hands."

The hand Rhys _could_ control was on the front of his pants before he could think about it, squeezing himself through his pants up until the point that Jack snapped at him.

"Nuh-uh, don’t touch yourself."

Rhys reluctantly took his hand away, settling it again at his side. 

“There we go,” Jack purred, almost sweet, that is – until he left Rhys’ lap and sat off to one side with his hand still overlapping Rhys’, and his fingers came back to life. The pressure wasn’t so unbearable the third time, more uncomfortable and less _killing him_ , his thinking clear enough that he could register the lack of air he wanted but not what he needed, he had just enough and it was almost nice –

Until Jack laughed at his thoughts.

Rhys wished right then that he could have shut everything down, keep it all to himself but he couldn’t, he had no clue how to turn it all off to the point Jack wouldn’t hear his thoughts or be able to delve through his memories, but right then it didn’t _matter_ , he felt _good_. 

He wondered if Jack’s feelings bled into his own, melded somewhere in the middle.

“Are you trying to justify the tent in your pants? I can tell you, full TMI, I don’t pop a chub when someone chokes _me_ , but good try. This is all you, kiddo.” 

Rhys went silent, not responding only because Jack squeezed tighter with his fingers. His mouth opened in a small ‘o’ after a time, fingers flexing at his side like they wanted to reach out, but Rhys wasn’t about to do that without being told he could. He didn’t want Jack forcing him to pass out on the floor. 

“Let – me, please,” he managed to get out of his throat, sore and worn and tired, and Jack didn’t stop him when he moved his hand just enough to get at the button of his pants. He took that as a yes, unbuttoning them with shaky fingers and -

“You should probably get your hand wet first, dumbass.”

Rhys glared as best he could with a hand around his throat and was actually pretty pleasantly surprised when Jack relaxed his grip enough that Rhys could spit on his hand. 

Not that that lasted long, however.

Rhys shoved his hand down his pants and closed his fingers around his cock, losing all the breath he’d saved up from that brief period of air in one go.

He didn’t last long, not with Jack clenching his fingers tighter with every few seconds and his hand pumping up and down in uneven strokes – he was too distracted for anything else, he couldn’t put anything into it but a simple up-and-down but it was good enough, it was _perfect_ as far as he was concerned.

Jack closed his robotic hand impossibly tight around his neck and it was a blessing just then that his hand hadn’t been built to crush things, but his movements and the lack of air pushed him over the edge, and he came over his own hand with a soft, broken noise at the back of his throat – because that was as far as the noise could travel. He was pretty sure Jack said something – or he made a noise too – but Rhys couldn’t be sure.

Jack’s hold on his hand suddenly disappeared, leaving Rhys with one hand still down his pants and the other at his side, chest rising and falling with the relief of both clear breathing and being generally pretty sated, and there might be marks on his neck from where his fingers pushed into his skin but at that moment, nothing mattered but sitting on the floor and basking in whatever the hell that was. Because he’d regret it later. All of it.

“This is the start of a _great_ duo, Rhys. Don’t you think? By the way, you should probably clean all that up before someone comes up here. Might get the wrong idea.” And he was gone before Rhys could reply so he slumped against the wall instead, groaning to himself.


End file.
